Guild Hunter 01 - Angels' Blood

death, yet he’d kept this woman, this shadow of her mother, with him. But Jeffrey’s hypocrisy wasn’t the fault of this poor, brutalized stranger—she deserved to have her killer brought to whatever justice the Cadre meted out to its own.
    “Glutted,” she repeated, forcefully corralling her skittering thoughts, “but not stupid.” Uram was beginning to act more like a thinking being. “Most vamps caught in bloodlust don’t reach that stage until at least three or four months after the bloodlust first sets in. The only one who’s known to have survived that long after turning was—” The name stuck in her throat, a vicious, cutting evil.
    “Slater Patalis,” Raphael completed for her. “Venom’s arrived to complete the cleanup. I’ll fly above. I’ve asked Dmitri to stay out of range.”
    “Good.” She turned away, unable to look at the woman on the bed. “What about my father?”
    “He knows only that his lover was killed by a rogue vampire. That’s a rumor it’s to our advantage to spread.”
    Venom’s scent curled up the stairs as they headed down. “The woman has family,” the vampire said. “No one in the city, however.”
    Elena had a sudden, choking thought. “Did she have children?” A brother or a sister she’d never known about?
    It was Raphael who answered. “No. I’m certain.”
    She gave a jerky nod at the firm answer, and he turned back to Venom. “Her body can’t be found.”
    “Of course. I’ll ensure there’s a paper trail leading out of the city.” The vampire began to climb up. “Jason has returned.”
    Having reached the hallway, Elena fought the urge to go to her father’s study, knowing it would only end in another shouting match. “Who’s Jason?” she asked instead, focusing on filtering out Venom’s scent and drawing a bead on Uram’s.
    “One of the Seven.”
    The Angel of Blood had gone out the back door, she thought, heading that way. “Why are you getting rid of the body? She was torn up, but it looks like classic vampire overkill.”
    “Uram may have left traces on her.”
    She pulled open the back door, felt a stickiness on her palm, and looked down. Rust stained her skin. Dried blood. “He’s taunting us.” She rubbed her palm clean against her pants, wanting to wash it off, but not enough to chance losing the scent. It was fresh, clean , vivid in the clarity of the day after a rainstorm. That was a bonus—with so much having been washed away, the new scents were richer, more intense.
    Blood drops a few feet from the door. She didn’t want to consider where they’d come from, not when taking souvenirs was Uram’s thing. Which reminded her—“Michaela?”
    “I’ve warned her.”
    Almost able to see Uram’s scent in the ozone-lashed air, she began running, barely aware of the wind generated by Raphael’s wings as he rose to the sky. A group of early commuters got out of her way as she almost sprinted out of the alley behind the building and into the busier street on the other side, but no one looked skyward. Glamour, she thought. It made her skin creep to think Uram could’ve been watching her at any time since the hunt began.
    Another drop of blood, this one buried into the asphalt by the pounding of feet rushing this way and that as the city woke. She noted it but kept running, dodging well-dressed businessmen and shopping-cart-pushing homeless with equal ease. More blood, this drop large enough to have people circling it with wary looks. She wondered if anyone had called the cops. It being New York, she expected not.
    Raphael would need to send a cleanup crew here, too. Mentally tagging the spot, she continued to follow the scent, excitement lacing her blood like the most powerful of drugs. Her ability infused every inch of her skin, every element of her being.
    This was who she was. Hunter-born.
    She felt like she was swimming through acid burned in sunlight by the time she found herself in front of a building that looked surprisingly familiar. Where was she? She blinked awake out of the almost trancelike state she’d fallen into and read the sign.
     
    The NEW Children’s Museum
ENDOWED BY DeverauX Enterprises
     
    Her blood chilled, horror flooding her mouth, until she read the fine print and realized the museum was closed due to refurbishment. Thank God. If some child had gone inside . . .
    Is he in the building?
    It was tempting to wrap the scent of rain, of Raphael, around herself, but she resisted, tugging on the